


When Dreams Spill Over

by ceddie



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, Smut, shizuo is sexually frustrated, shizuo pining more, this is my first fanfic please forgive my lack of tagging skills, well izaya is too but he's a little shit so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 06:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10736058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceddie/pseuds/ceddie
Summary: In which Shizuo has a dream he is very, very unhappy about.In other words, Shizuo can't hear his temper over his raging hormones.





	When Dreams Spill Over

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, so this is the first time I've ever attempted to write a proper fic (or smut, for that matter, because yes I am a sinner - with, erm, only second hand sources, before today). I hope it turns out successful, and I hope you'll hope for that too :')

 

* * *

 

 

Shizuo bolted awake.

 

There was nothing new about the driblets of sweat on his temples after being awoken by a dream. For a man with a temperament like Shizuo’s there always tends to be a continuous string of emotion bubbling up somewhere within—somewhere far deep enough that it wouldn’t overflow at any instant. The people in Ikebukuro, of course, were frequently made well aware of the consequences of that happening.

In Shizuo’s case, any residue of irritation that he failed to release—or in more favorable terms, ‘succeeded in resisting’—seemed to have spilled over into a pit in his subconscious. Aside from random thugs terrorizing the locals, certain insults spewed in his direction, or maybe even sometimes his chatterbox of a friend who seemed to lack any sort of filter for decency (especially when it came to his dear girlfriend), Shizuo had already become accustomed to seeing none other than that pest of an informant in his nighttime frustrations.

Izaya’s ever present smirk was already so ingrained in Shizuo’s mind that his dreams portrayed it impossibly accurately. Even the voice calling ‘Shizu-chan~’ was definitely Izaya’s, with it always tilting into more of a taunt than something friendly. Without any hint of vagueness, Shizuo saw almost every night the glint in his eye just before whipping out that damn blade and making a run for it—unmistakably Orihara Izaya.

On this chilly night, seemingly like any other, however, Shizuo found himself waking up in a state somewhere between shock and disgust.

 

And maybe something else.

 

Though he was used to chasing the head of black hair for days on end, never has he had a dream of this nature—or should he call it a memory? A memory that somehow got twisted into something _totally_ out of his scope…

 

It seems the image he witnessed, one he had committed himself to ignoring and forgetting, has found its way into the pit of his subconscious. It was _bound_ to turn up eventually, he thought in resignation. The sight was as unreal as it was fleeting—having been almost a miracle that Shizuo even caught it before it was professionally masked over with neutrality, as Izaya always managed to do.

Shizuo thought back at that moment—with his fist gripping Izaya’s shirt, the proximity of their faces evident enough to feel each other’s breath, the fur on Izaya’s coat innocently tickling at Shizuo’s torn sleeve—Izaya’s face morphed into something entirely new to Shizuo.

 

Because who would have thought that the face of Orihara Izaya could look so utterly candid?

 

Shizuo sure wouldn’t have. Not with the devilish smirk he was so used to chasing.

 

The Izaya of sharp edges, and mechanical expressions only inches away from his eyes then, had turned soft. The red in his eyes seemed more ambient, like the dark of a rose in wilt. His eyebrows losing the arch anyone else would have thought was natural, turning upwards into something of a plea, and his lips—those Shizuo only had a moment to view in such clarity—losing the sly upward curve, and relaxing ever so slightly to let his tongue snake over his lower lip. Out of nervousness or habit, Shizuo hadn’t enough time to be sure—he was admittedly enticed by the unfamiliar motion.

 

Since when was this flea capable of looking so…

 

_delicate?_

 

Before the minute was over, before Shizuo could vocalize any thought he might have had, and before he could have maybe even let go of the man’s shirt, Izaya’s usual visage won over, causing Shizuo to lose any semblance of pardon for the time being.

 

“Cat got your tongue, Shizu-chan?” Izaya said, with his usual drawl. “If we’re done here, I should get back to my busy schedule-“

 

Shizuo found the growl in his throat once again and jumped back to avoid the blade Izaya whipped out from under his coat. “You little-“

 

“’Til next time Shizu-chan,” and before Shizuo could react, the smaller man was out of his space and sprinting away.

 

The scene was so alien that Shizuo had tucked it away with intent to forget, but the dream he just had was even more far-fetched from reality.

 

In that latest episode, Izaya from the _moment_ had replaced the figure Shizuo might have conjured up during his midnight _itches_ —with blurred facial features, leaving Shizuo to focus on imagining the feel of a brunette's soft locks and porcelain skin, maybe a touch of sheer under his fingers, moving higher and higher without hesitation. Yes, Heiwajima Shizuo was indeed, not exempt from these late night fantasies—a form of release he was not all too familiar with, as Shizuo had no trouble finding someone to take care of his urges when he wanted.

 

For once, Izaya was a different kind of dangerous in Shizuo's mind—lose raven strands across darkening eyes, cheeks flushed to a shade of fever-pink, and the heat enough to _burn_ against Shizuo's - but his body could only embrace it.

 

Shizuo’s throat was dry, but he swallowed as he recalled the dream-

 

_It was skin on skin, the heat radiating enough to fill the small space. A tangle of limbs caught in the bedsheets—one frame small and delicate, creamy skin soft to the touch, and the other, larger, built lean and strong, with rough hands feeling, gripping, untainted flesh. Shizuo's face was so close to Izaya's, and though he should be used to the proximity - knowing all too well how it felt to be in Izaya's space with all the collar-grip worthy death threats - but this time it's a closeness that Shizuo feels nowhere near enough, and all he could do was press his mouth to Izaya's trembling lips and let his tongue move in desperation._

_It all felt so…heavy...with Izaya gripping the hair at the nape of his neck, and his legs wrapping around Shizuo's hips and pulling him in closer - if that was even possible. And when Izaya's mouth wasn't enough, Shizuo let his lips lead him along Izaya's jaw...a nibble at his ear...a deliciously slow lick along his neck - and Shizuo could feel the intensity of Izaya's shudder at the sensation, one that could only be matched by his own as Izaya brought his lips to Shizuo's ear and whispered-_

 

Shizuo would never hear " _Shizu-chan_ ," the same way again.


End file.
